In the Dark
by Kirsty Welsh
Summary: Originally written in response to a challenge. But, as our Curly haired friend may say, its just a bit of shmaltz! COMPLETE


Ok well, it's dark in here and they seem to be ignoring me, which on the one hand is nice, coz I'm alone with my thoughts, but on the other hand is kinda lonely.

I've been here for so long now, in this dark place it must be….oh….almost two weeks and since she tied me up there's been no company at all. Just this scary, stuffy dark and the muffled noises coming from outside. The bonds aren't tight. I'm used to them now. They hold me together and almost protect me, the bindings hugging my body as if they're a part of me; not hurting at all. But the sight of her face still fills me each day. Her beautiful eyes, her full, open smile. They fill me with love each time I think of her. Because she was mine. She, of course, thought it was the other way around – that I was hers, and I let her believe that because it made her feel good. When she hugged me to her and buried her face in my hair, it comforted her. And boy, did she need the comfort! But enough of my soapy thoughts! Time to get real huh?

I heard someone on the phone a moment ago. They sounded weird…kinda drunk. Not angry "I'm gonna knock your block off drunk" more kinda sad and lonely drunk. But they stopped a moment ago and now there's the silence again. And the silence is what keep me on edge, keeps me wondering if she's gonna come back any time soon. I want her back. I want to feel her arms around me again, hugging me and talking low and sweetly in my ear.

I've heard the other voice before, but it never sounded so….so pained. I almost wanted it to come for me, to take me from this dim, dark pit of a place and bring me into the sunshine again. I long for the light; long for human contact again – it seems so long! But it isn't time yet, I know that.

And there's the other voice, the one that's so achingly familiar? The one that's low and mellow. That's the voice that gets to me every single time, because that's the voice that was always around when she was, the one that made her laugh that melodic, girly laugh she had, that seemed to bring the sunshine out on a rainy day. Now that same voice waits until there's no one else around before it breaks down into long, heartbreaking sobs rending the air with sorrow and loneliness.

It wasn't always like that for me – dark and lonely. I used to be loved and cuddled all the time. She was always there for me, stroking my hair, cuddling me close to her. I loved the smell of her perfume. It enveloped me in warmth and comfort and she used to bury her nose in my hair and kiss me tenderly and murmur sweet nothings in my ear. She told me all her secrets. She told me who she loved and who loved her and I laughed and cried with her in turn. She told me the day she was hurt that she didn't think she'd be able to see me for too much longer, but that I'd always be there in her heart and that she had a special task for me. One that only I could fulfil. My heart was filled with joy that she thought I could do it, and sorrow that I was forced to take on that role. God how I miss her! But now she isn't here any more and I ache for her to hold me again and tell me that she loves me. Maybe soon Ill see her again, but not yet. Not yet.

OK, now this is different. I can see a kind of lighter place. There are hands on me now, lifting me and guiding me. I can feel hands on my body, holding not too tight, but tight enough that I don't feel like they'll drop me. Weird. After all this time, I don't want to see the light any more. Not unless she's come back for me. I'd like it if she came back. I don't feel like I can face the world any more if she isn't there to hold me and protect me and whisper to me like she used to.

And now I can hear the voices again. What's that one say? No. can't make it out just yet. This stuff surrounding me is blocking out the noise, but the hands are back. Oh my! They're untying the bonds around me. They're taking the covers away. I can see!

But it isn't her. Wrong colour of hair. Its not her, it's a man, although the man is looking at me with such tenderness. Is that a tear? No. men don't cry…. do they? Well the other voice cried, in the night, when he was hunkered down by my prison, on the cold hard floor with only me for company. But he didn't know I was there….not really. And then she cried towards the end when no-one was there but me. And I was there for her then. My hair caught her tears like tiny diamond drops as she hugged me to her and said goodbye.

This man seems kind. I know him, seen him before when she was there. He likes me, just as he liked her and the other man. Always there, always listening, just like me.

The other one saying something now that I can ear properly. Oh my name! He knows my name! I can hear him now. From the corner of my eye I can see he's reading something, a sad smile on his face.

'To Hutch I entrust Ollie and Dave…….

Is he going to love me as much as Terry loved her teddy?


End file.
